Gail S. Green and Twyla from Rescue Organization, Berkeley, CA

Our Story:Oh my gosh, not THIS one! She was not what I went there for. The volunteers did say she hadn’t been out for a walk for a while, and they were short-handed that morning. So the young woman lifted the scared, thin and very scruffy little girl they called Maggie, snapped on a leash and put her in my charge for the next 15 minutes. The pitiful dog was almost embarrassing, so we took a side street for the walk. She pulled desperately to get away – from me, from the traffic, everything. After she finally did her business, we strained back to the rescue building, and I lifted her up to return her to her crate.

No volunteers or staff were to be seen, so I sat in the chair with Maggie and waited. I struck up a conversation with another adopter, and my gestures while talking included putting my palm up next to Maggie. She promptly put her chin in my hand and sighed. Not a breath, a long cleansing sigh. I sighed, too, as I looked at the scruffy little thing, and our fate was sealed.

I took her home to “foster” her – I know everyone is shaking their head at THAT, eh? She got along famously with my other dog, and I knew it would be long road for her to heal from whatever her past traumas had been. She reminded me of the dancer, Twyla Tharp – long legged and scruffy-looking, so I named her Twyla. Her nickname is “Bug.”

She has come a very long way. I call it “from wags to riches.”

She has been trained and registered with several national organizations as a working Service Dog for my invisible disability. She now goes everywhere with me, any time I need her. Her favorite activity is to fly – she pulls me down the gang-plank to hurry up and get on, she chooses a seat, jumps up, gets in my lap and sleeps like a baby for both take-off and landing. She doesn’t wake up until we arrive, and then once again she pulls me up the gang-plank and trots through the airport with her tail up and prancing.